


Game of Thrones (4): Lovely Woman

by Madzie2000



Series: Star Ships: Best Non-canon Couples of TV and Film [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 16:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madzie2000/pseuds/Madzie2000
Summary: Arya Stark thought that she loved No-one... and as it turns out, that was exactly what had happened.





	Game of Thrones (4): Lovely Woman

Arya still remembered the day she lost her sight. She had taken a life from the Many-Faced God and Jaqen didn’t seem happy. The Waif seemed to know that she would disobey the Many-Faced God and she loathed that woman. But she didn’t loathe Jaqen.

 

_No, I loathe him and He is no one._

 

She was held fast by the other woman, trapped by arms like her own; lean with muscle, but soft like a woman’s. Jaqen just stood there, watching her fight against the Waif. She was grown, but they still held the same child-like stance when they weren’t at odds. Jaqen stood and watched in silence.

 

_He is no one._

 

“That man’s life was not yours to take,” he drawled certainly “A girl **stole** from the Many-Faced God.”

Arya looked back at him uncertainly, fear creeping from her mind and heart into her expression as the Waif pushed her forward.

“Now a debt is owed,” he said as he held her gaze.

Arya struggled a little harder when Jaqen brought out a small glass bottle with a tiny wooden cork from the fabric of his clothes. He was going to kill her.

 

_He wasn’t even a man... he was no one._

 

Now fear was obvious across her face, pasted their by the circumstances surrounding her. The Waif was forcing her mouth open in a crumpled ‘o’ to allow her to swallow the bottles contents. Now she made small noises of protest as Jaqen pulled the cork out and held her gaze once again, as if savouring the look in her eyes.

“Only death can pay for life,” he said with intent in his eyes.

She panted madly for a short while, watching in confusion as Jaqen downed the contents of the bottle. She – of all people – would live despite her mistake.

 

_It was his little joke. **No one** was going to kill me. No one – nobody – wanted me dead._

 

Jaqen let the small bottle fall from his lips and stared at her harshly for a moment, eyes wide as the girl’s own mouth. He suddenly tilted to one side and hit the floor, but not before she gave a mix of a strangled cry and a whimper. She began to sob for him; the waif released her and let her wail and shout at his pale, unmoving face. The waif didn’t understand that she had developed such a strong bond with him despite the time between their meetings. Perhaps she even loved him...

 

_How could I love someone who plays such stupid games with a girl’s mind?_

“He was no one,” came a familiar voice from behind her.

She turned and saw Jaqen standing without his hooded cloak on and gave a whimper of surprise and relief.

“But... if you’re...”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Arya was in shock at the sight of a dead man standing behind her and was laid out in front of her at the same time. It just wasn’t possible.

“Who’s this?” she asked in desperation for an answer.

“No one at all,” he answered her.

 

_To me you will always be no one, Jaqen H'gar. I am going home and no one can stop me... rather, no one can ever... damn, no matter what way I try it, it always sounds as though no one – someone like him – can do the impossible. Argh! Get out of my head!_

Arya hated thinking about Jaqen and the waif, but late at night she would hear a voice and think it was him, but it only ever turned out to be a drunk who wanted to fuck. Arya knew she wasn’t entirely unattractive, but her masculine qualities made her a worthy adversary nonetheless. She was trudging through heavy snow, listening to it crunch under her feet. She was approaching Castle Black and her entire body was beginning to feel the cold after her long, weary journey. Coming from the South she had only been able to obtain layers of thin clothing or cheaply made clothes; this made for a harsh walk amongst the tall trees and through the unforgiving snow.

“Jon will be there... he has to be,” Arya said, trying to assure herself.

“A girl is a long way from Braavos,” said a man from behind her.

Arya turned and saw nothing. No one. There was no man, but rather, light footprints in the snow by her feet. She turned and came face to face with Jaqen H’gar.

“Jaqen?” Arya said in disbelief, stumbling backward into a thick-based tree “have you been following me from the Port?”

“A man left Braavos to protect a girl... because he has a face and a name,” Jaqen said as he pulled back his hood, revealing his deep red hair with the single streak of white.

“So... which one is it?” Arya said as she stared him down “Are you someone else under there or is a face hiding in your pockets?”

“The one I already wear has taken a liking to me... just as I have taken a liking to you,” he said with a choke, as if he had something to add.

“To...” Arya meant to ask ‘... me?’ but decided to follow a different path.

“Well I don’t love you!” she half-shouted at Jaqen “So you’ll have to show your stupid stuck-on face to someone else!”

Jaqen opened his mouth to say something when rage flashed across his blue-grey eyes. In a second he had pinned her by her wrists to a tree she had been standing next to, the sudden movement scaring her into silence.

“You’re telling a lie,” Jaqen spat angrily “This a man can see. Who shed tears and screamed for me to live in front of the Waif and the Many-Faced God? It wasn’t anyone... it was you, Arya.”

Arya was shocked for two reasons: the first being that Jaqen hadn’t said ‘a girl’ or ‘lovely girl’, and the second being that he addressed her by her name. Jaqen pulled himself away from her and he began walking off to her right, away from the castle and its warmth.

“If a man cannot be with you, then he must be with the Faceless Men and face Death at long last.”

“Wait!” Arya shouted back, despite a strange feeling in her gut.

“What is it?” Jaqen said as he stopped and turned back.

“You could become a knight for my brother Jon,” Arya said with a trace of uncertainty in her tone “That way you could see me every day... and we could go into battle together.”

 Jaqen looked over at the castle’s tall walls and then let his steely gaze fall back to Arya.

“I will go with you to the castle,” Jaqen said certainly “But whether or not I stay is to be seen.”

As they began trudging toward Castle Black, Jaqen heard Arya whisper something to herself that sounded oddly like “You’ll stay.”

 

Two Months Later...

 

Arya and Jaqen had been fighting alongside one another to protect Castle Black from invading White walkers with an army of men and women from three noble Houses of Westeros: Stark, Targaryen and Lannister. Daenerys’ dragons would burn them while her fearless warriors laid down their lives for her and for those who had grown weak. Those under the command of the Starks fought with bravery and honour, saving lives wherever and whenever it was possible. The Lannisters only protected themselves, just as Jon had predicted, but they still fought valiantly. With assistance from Melisandre and the cooperation of Daenerys’ dragons, thousands, if not millions of Valyrian steel weapons had been forged for the battle, with older blades being melted down to create weaker but still dangerous blades. Arya had seen Gendry working in the forge and he gave her a broad smile, but for some reason she was happier when she saw Jaqen. She loved Gendry, she did, but not in the way she had come to love Jaqen. It was the love men and women shared, not children. She loved Gendry like a brother: he had been her closest friend until the Red Bitch sent him away. Arya sat down and polished needle, whose blade had been coated in Valyrian steel. Like many others, she had cut herself badly the first time she polished it, but soon learnt not to so much as graze the edge, as it would easily cut through skin and cleaning cloth. Jaqen sat beside her, wiping his own blade and admiring the water-like pattern that flowed across its surface.

“Not cutting yourself anymore I see?” Jaqen said with a sly grin, glancing over at the small scars decorating Arya’s hands.

Arya saw his grin and shook her head.

“No,” Arya said to confirm his observations “I stopped a long time ago. You need to go train a little because you aren’t observant anymore.”

She gave him a mischievous smile and he returned it.

“How many did you kill today?” Arya asked Jaqen “One almost got me...”

Arya lifted her left arm to reveal three deep gashes in her side that had leaked through most of her clothing, a white walker having slashed her with their long nails.

“When did this happen to you?” Jaqen asked worriedly, dodging a servant holding meat for their meal that night to kneel before her.

“Calm down Jaqen!” Arya whispered loudly when she noticed Jon looking down on them from a balcony “It’s only cuts in my side... I’ve been stabbed before and this is far less painful.”

“I worry for you,” Jaqen said as he followed Arya’s gaze up to Jon “This is something even your cousin does.”

“He may be a Targaryen by blood but Jon is still my brother,” she replied sourly.

Jon had told them all the story of his past, which Daenerys accepted, leading to her alliance in the war against the White Walkers. In turn Daenerys had scared the Lannisters into aiding the Starks despite the feud between their noble Houses.

“And what of me lovely woman?” Jaqen said with a grin.

Arya froze as he sat directly beside her, his hand in very close proximity to hers.

“Why didn’t you say girl?” she asked in a panic “You always say **girl** don’t you?”

“Why does this change scare you so much?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Because I’m still a girl,” Arya said nervously “I’m not a woman until I bleed and it still hasn’t happened yet... even though I’ve had 17 namedays.”

“If you worry this much about such things you should speak to the Red Woman,” Jaqen suggested, sitting a hand lightly on Arya’s shoulder “She has magic that even I could never understand.”

“I will speak to her when I feel like it!” Arya said harshly, jerking her shoulder out of his grasp.

Jaqen watched Arya walk away and Jon was watching him closely with crossed arms. Though he looked intimidating, Jaqen had already spoken with Jon and admitted his feelings for the young woman. It was only now that Jon could see what was coming between them: Arya not being true to herself. That night Arya sat with the men, though Jon asked her to stay with him for their meal. Arya was squashed in between Gendry and Jaqen, both of whom seemed to shield her from the other men as if they might steal her away. They had never said it to one another, but Jaqen and Gendry had a silent agreement that Jaqen could have her if he wanted; should Jaqen do something to dishonour Arya then Gendry had every right to beat him into the snow with his father’s war hammer. Jaqen left as soon as he had finished his meal and Arya wanted to know why, so she followed him. Rather than walking into the barracks for the men, he wandered to the room where Melisandre slept. She had refused take part in the war, but gladly gave healing to those who had families or death to those who begged for it. Arya only respected her for the one occasion in which a man was choking on his own blood and she soothed him into quietness as the life left him. She looked so motherly but she knew her maternal instincts were that of a ravenous beast; eat first, love later. Arya stepped in close to the heavy wooden door, finding it open just a fraction. Eavesdropping wasn’t a good thing to do, but Arya got the feeling that their conversation involved her.

“Valar Dohaeris, Melisandre,” she heard Jaqen say inside the room.

“And women, Jaqen H’gar,” Melisandre said with her usual, misty yet somehow seductive tone “Tell me, how fares Braavos? I have not crossed the Narrow Sea for some time.”

“It fares well my Lady,” he answered with a light bow “But I need to ask you if a woman can bear children.”

“And if I say _daor_?” she said in High Valyrian “ _Skoro ao diniluks_?”

There was only one word Arya knew in that sentence, being daor, no. The rest was a mystery, but Jaqen understood it to mean ‘If I say no, what will you do?’ which made him truly think about his answer. She was a woman of magic and a lie of a threat would come across as arrogant and cause her to force him away from Arya.

Jaqen lowered his voice and replied “Regardless of what the answer is... _Ñuhor lir gurenna_.”

“I can only wish you well then,” Melisandre said with a smile “Since your mind seems to be made up on this matter. Good evening to you Jaqen H’gar. Valar Dohaeris.”

“Valar Dohaeris,” he said as he began walking toward the door.

Arya took a few steps back quietly and stopped when she was a short distance from the door, making it seem as though she had been walking along to see him.

“Were you speaking with Melisandre about me?” she asked in a fake, yet truly eager way “Was it something bad?”

“It was nothing bad at all,” he said truthfully “Just asking questions and getting answers.”

Would you be able to teach me some High Valyrian?” Arya lied gracefully “Maybe if I can speak to Melisandre in her own language I can also learn to get along with her.”

“A woman makes far more convincing lies when she thinks she won’t get caught,” Jaqen replied without skipping a beat “I knew you were outside the door because I saw your shadow.”

Arya muttered a curse under her breath and Jaqen grinned.

“Meet me in the stables later in the night... the hour of the wolf would suit you?” Jaqen said with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll be there,” Arya said shortly before walking away to change her clothes.

Jaqen watched her leave and he wondered why she didn’t let Melisandre treat her wound before she changed. Rather than letting his mind remain on this, Jaqen wandered off to the stables to prepare himself for the long night ahead.

 

Later That Night...

 

Arya had decided to abandon her usual habit of tying up her hair, leaving it down to hang about her shoulder. She preferred to feel free and Jon almost always made her keep it up... since her chest was so much smaller than most women it made her appear more masculine and it kept the men’s eyes off of her. Jaqen on the other hand would stare regardless of the state of her hair. As far as Arya was concerned, she could have lost all her hair and still feel his gaze upon her, only to find out that he had been staring when she turns toward him. It seemed to happen quite a lot since he had joined with Jon and the other men. His stories of glorious battles and battles he had seen from afar kept them awake at night, giggling like girls after receiving their first kiss. But Arya wasn’t the type to be feminine; that was Sansa’s job, not hers. Jaqen was down in the stables laying out a thick woollen blanket for them to lay on so he could speak with her. What he had to say wasn’t a laughing matter and he doubted any of the men should hear it. Jaqen tried not to think of the kind of debauched imaginings that would go on in their heads should they catch wind of a secret like this. As he finally stood his sword in the corner of the empty and well-cleaned stall, Jaqen heard someone’s light footsteps behind him.

“You cannot creep up on a man such as me,” he said as he turned to face the younger woman with a light smile on his face.

“I can get close enough,” Arya jibed with a lopsided grin.

Jaqen said nothing and kneeled on the blanket, finding – to his delight – that none of the straw was sticking into his shins as he sat back on his heels. He patted the rest of the blanket in front of him and Arya walked over, kneeling down as if she were accepting an oath.

“You can relax lovely woman,” Jaqen said with a smile “This is nothing to be so judicious about.”

“Alright,” Arya said shortly.

She slid her arse down onto the blanket from her heels and crossed her legs quickly, her arms resting in her lap rather lazily.

“What are we supposed to be doing?” Arya asked, her eyes full of wonder.

She looked as if he were going to tell her a story like a father would his child. What he felt for her however was not something a father would share with his children.

“There is nothing we are supposed to do,” Jaqen said, his steely eyes holding onto hers “But we can if you ask it of me.”

Arya’s brow furrowed as she searched his face for a clue as to what his cryptic words meant. At least, to her they were cryptic.

“Is there something you had to tell me or is this just another one of your games?” she said with a menacing tone.

“I spoke to Melisandre after you left earlier this evening,” Jaqen said, his skin’s usually brilliant bronze becoming paler than usual “She says you cannot bear children because of the injuries you suffered training under me... but the Waif’s attempt on your life did most of the damage.”

Arya was dead silent for the first time in her life. On any other day she would’ve been screaming at him or spitting insults but she couldn’t find the words. Instead her eyes glazed over with tears yet to be shed. Jaqen abandoned the promise he had made to himself since he left Braavos and threw his arms around Arya’s trembling form.

“It’s okay lovely woman,” Jaqen said reassuringly as Arya buried her face in his shoulder “Think of the pain you’ve been spared by the Gods you pray to at night. Most women would love to be you.”

“That’s not why I’m crying,” Arya sobbed into his sleeve “I didn’t realise you cared about me this much until now.”

Jaqen’s smile grew wider and he sat a hand ever so gently on the back of Arya’s head, his fingers running through her brown locks. Arya sat back and Jaqen moved his hand from the back of her head to her cheeks, using his thumb to brush away a few tears that had left trails on Arya’s skin.

“Does a woman love me or does she still not know her what heart says?” Jaqen asked as their eyes locked together like swords on a battlefield.

Arya  looked down for a moment at her knees and shook her head.

“I think I’m too young to know,” Arya said as she brushed at Jaqen’s hand.

“And **I** don’t think you’re being honest,” Jaqen said as his eyes narrowed in the slightest way.

Arya had no retort and gave him a defiant glare.

“All right then,” she said with aggression “Show me how I’m supposed to know then?”

Jaqen blinked silently for a moment, taken aback by her forceful yet fearful tone.

“You’re asking me to prove that a part of you loves me?” Jaqen asked uncertainly “And I have your permission to do so?”

“Depends on what you’re going to do,” she shot back quickly.

“Nothing to dishonour you, I swear it,” Jaqen said as a light flush bled into his cheeks.

“And you’ve always kept your promises... fine, you have my permission,” Arya said after a moment of thinking.

Jaqen brought his face down to Arya’s and let his nose graze the side of hers. She caught on quickly and he gave her a quick peck to the side of her mouth. After a moment he moved to her lips and let his own stay there for a little while. This time when he moved back to give her time to think, he felt her ever so gently grip his arms. The third time he let his tongue move over her bottom lip and her mouth opened under his, letting him in. Arya squeaked at the odd sensation and pulled her head back in surprise.

“Did I bite you?” Jaqen ventured, his grin threatening to become a wide smile.

“No!” Arya said reflexively “I was just surprised, that’s all. I felt kind of – what’s the word? – warm maybe?”

“That’s what you want to happen,” Jaqen said with certainty “Should I try again know that you know what to expect?”

“Fine,” Arya said, leaning toward him “But if Jon hears a word of this he’ll feed you to the White Walkers.”

“I’m sure Jon will know by looking at you,” Jaqen offered, seeming to think this would calm her nerves.

Arya said nothing and let him slide a hand under one of her arms, brining her in close to his chest. Out of instinct, Arya put a hand to the back of his head and she felt his red hair under her fingers. It was far smoother than it appeared to be and she hadn’t really thought about it until now, but why now? Jaqen leant down to her again, letting their lips meeting quite softly rather than rushing the whole affair. He then moved his tongue along her upper lip and opening Arya’s mouth once again. This time he slowly moved himself forward and she responded by moving her own tongue to meet his. Suddenly Arya was kissing Jaqen fiercely and he had begun doing the same in kind. There was no in-between phase for them. Arya was kissing passionately as if she knew how the night should play out and – in embarrassment – broke the kiss and panted quietly, her face buried in her hands.

“Did you bite yourself this time?” Jaqen joked, earning a glare from what looked like an angry tomato.

“You never said anything about making me blush!” Arya said angrily, poking a finger into his chest.

“Then I should tell you,” Jaqen whispered into her ear “I planned on making you do more than blush this night. I’ll leave it for another day.”

“You mean you were going to...?” Arya couldn’t finish her sentence.

 _He wants to fuck me? Like men do to women in a whorehouse? I bet even Jon’s done that, but me?_ Jaqen noticed the odd look on Arya’s face and cupped her cheek.

“What happens this night is not my choice,” Jaqen said “You alone tell me what is to be done.”

Arya thought for a moment and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him behind her.

“Come with me,” she said as she practically dragged him through corridors and doorways without doors to her room.

When they were outside, Arya took a final glance around to be sure nobody would spot her bringing a grown man into her room in the dead – no pun intended – of night. Arya pulled Jaqen in and closed the door quietly, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“A woman brings me to her room? Why?”

Arya stepped away from the door and glared at Jaqen.

“Stop with the Lorathi shit,” Arya said as she moved closer to him “That isn’t how you’d talk if you could.”

“So you want me to talk like a man in the North?” Jaqen ventured “Using ‘I’ and ‘we’ instead of keeping my guise up around you?”

“It sounds far better that way,” Arya said as she ran a hand form his shoulder to his stomach. “Besides... I’d like to hear my name at least once tonight.”

Jaqen’s blood reached boiling point at these words and he leaned down to Arya again, their lips locking hastily in a passionate kiss and their hands finding one another’s backs. Arya let one hand wander to Jaqen’s silky hair and she thought she heard something like a growl, the sound making her shiver. Jaqen pulled away and saw the desire in Arya’s eyes, almost unbelieving of her sudden change of heart. But he wasn’t about to stop this from happening; he was too close to fail now.

“How many layers of clothing do you wear?” Jaqen asked with a huskiness in his voice.

 “Overshirt, undershirt, pants and breeches... that makes three,” Arya said with a grin.

“As do I,” Jaqen said “So we can take turns. I’ll let a wo – you first.”

Arya ran her hands down Jaqen’s sides to his hips and forced him to sit at the end of her bed, nimble fingers untucking his overshirt and every other item of clothing on his upper half. She then began undoing a long trail of buttons to relieve Jaqen of his overshirt. She pushed it down his arms, one sleeve at a time, feeling the muscles under his skin flex. Now she could see his white undershirt with a small trail of lace at the low collar. Jaqen watched her tilt her head as she waited for him to take her overshirt from her and he saw an opportunity. Leaning forward quickly, he caught her neck and kissed it, making Arya shiver as if she felt a chill wind rush past them. He reached out and undid the laces of her overshirt and pulled it over her head, their lips connecting as soon as her head was visible again. Jaqen moved back and whispered to Arya, asking her to sit on his lap. She did so without needing to be asked a second time and he felt his blood rush down, down, down... until it reached its final goal. Now Arya undid the laces on Jaqen’s undershirt, her fingers purposely sliding over his chest and stomach to feel the muscles moving underneath her hands and the fabric. His undershirt was gone and now he had the pleasure of removing hers; he did it slowly, running his hands up her sides along with the white fabric to feel her ribs under his hands. Her undershirt was on the floor and he paid little attention to her small chest: this was about love, not a woman’s body and what it could do for him. Jaqen could see a flicker of uncertainty in Arya’s eyes and he knew in that instant she was growing nervous.

“Perhaps I should take the rest of my clothes off alone,” he said, before gently pushing Arya to one side.

Arya was too lost in lusts firm grasp on her emotions to object. Jaqen kept his eyes on his pants as he pushed them down past his thighs, his knees and then bent down to pull them over his feet. Arya was enjoying the view, staring at the older man’s arse as if she’d never seen one in her life. She’d never seen him without a shirt on, but without pants? This was definitely a night of discovery if there ever was one. Jaqen turned back to Arya and held onto her sides, gently pulling her to the edge of the bed. Jaqen’s hands were at her hips holding onto them so he could lean forward ad kiss Arya. Arya’s head only dropping down to the pillows as he began kissing a trail down her body, starting at her neck and working his way past her breasts, across her stomach and stopping just above her pants. Jaqen lifted his hands and stood up, removing Arya’s pants rather roughly. His movement had taken her breeches for the ride and they had moved down her hips, one of the bones bared to his eyes. He leaned down and kissed it, hearing Arya’s breathing grew a little heavier in anticipation. He continued moving her pants down until they were on the floor and slowly moved her breeches over her hips, letting the back of his fingers feel their way along her thighs and her calves as the waistband passed over them. Jaqen firmly kissed her thigh and then stood up, seeing Arya’s flushed face. Keeping his eyes on her, he moved to undo the laces of his own breeches and let Arya see him naked as the day he was born – or at least, when Jaqen was born. For just a moment, Arya wondered who Jaqen had been before he had become faceless, but she doubted he would ever remember who he used to be now that he had kept this face. Jaqen sat a knee between Arya’s thighs and leant forward, kissing her as a finger moved inside of her body. She knew what that felt like from personal experience, but when it was somebody else, apparently it was ten times as arousing. Jaqen felt Arya’s inner walls move against his finger, allowing it in rather easily. He moved the digit slowly and after a while added a second. This made Arya hiss in pain, but he knew it would prevent much more in the near future. Arya pulled his hand away from her and shook her head.

“Now I should help you,” Arya said, attempting to appear seductive.

Jaqen raised an eyebrow and crawled over the top of Arya, his unclothed body touching hers for the first time. His cock was hard against her stomach and it sent her blood into a frenzy. As if she was born with the knowledge of a woman, Arya reached between them and ran her fingers over his cock exploratively before gripping it and beginning to move her hand up and down slowly. She was gentle but firm and somehow she was applying just enough pressure to excite Jaqen, but not enough to hurt him. Usually women would be at one end of the scale and cause an awkward yelp or cry, but instead he was moaning for her.

“Daor,” he moaned, making Arya smile.

She had to remind herself that he had just said ‘yes’. Jaqen suddenly seemed less enamoured by her hand and looked up from the shoulder he had taken to leaning over, causing her to stop.

“Hold it a little tighter,” Jaqen groaned and Arya did exactly that.

She continued to stroke him and Jaqen pulled away from her without explanation, rubbing his cock against the place his fingers had been.

“Are you ready to become a woman?” Jaqen asked Arya as he pressed himself at her entrance.

“Yes, do it, please,” Arya whimpered.

Jaqen kissed Arya’s shoulder and slowly moved himself into her, finding it quite easy not that he had prepared her. Arya’s body was tight around him but he didn’t allow himself to get lost in the feeling. Rather than trying to bury himself inside of her, Jaqen eased himself forward, moved back and then pushed a little further in. Bit by bit, her body accepted him and he was soon gently moving into her. Arya’s hands were on his back, fingernails raking across his skin as she moaned.

“Lovely woman, would you be mine?” Jaqen whispered into Arya’s ear “Would you let me put a cloak over your shoulders?”

Arya’s eyes opened and she kissed Jaqen hard, hoping that he would understand what this meant. When he began moving faster, Arya was starting to make sounds similar to cries of pain, but she felt like her skin was on fire. Every nerve in her body was tingling until she finally fell from the precipice she didn’t realised she had been standing on. Jaqen felt her inner walls pulse around him and he growled into Arya’s ear as he too felt his orgasm overtake his body. They both went quiet, only taking in shallow breaths of air to calm their racing heartbeats.

“The answer is yes,” Arya panted out as she sat up on her elbows “But what cloak would you use exactly?”

Jaqen laughed, something Arya had never thought she would hear in her life. He moved away from her and she caught sight of blood staining the bed around when their bodies had been joined.

“A cloak from Braavos lovely woman,” Jaqen said as he left the bed and picked up their breeches.

He froze when he saw the blood and even paled a little, which Arya found hilarious.

“Did you really think I’d been with a man before?” Arya smiled as she slipped the breeches over her legs and moved the blankets over her.

“No,” Jaqen said honestly “But I expected that if there had been blood you might have at least shrieked since it was...”

Arya lifted her arms and let him see the scarring the Waif had left on her stomach and he finally got his answer to the question he had asked Melisandre. It was a definite _daor_ , but that didn’t matter. There would surely be orphaned children from this dreaded war that they could take in and care for as their own. Jaqen slid into the bed beside Arya and ran a hand over her scars, making her shudder.

“They still hurt,” she said with a hint of aggression in her tone.

Jaqen leant over Arya and kissed her goodnight, but not before saying “Sorry, Arya.”

Arya turned over and let him wrap his legs around one of hers before draping an arm over her ribs, trapping her in a cage of limbs. She wished they could stay like this forever.      

**Author's Note:**

> The phrase ‘Skoro ao diniluks’ was synthesised from phrases on a production diary documenting the High Valyrian language (from the TV show) which you can find at this web address: http://www.makinggameofthrones.com/production-diary/2014/5/8/high-valyrian-101-learn-and-pronounce-common-phrases. I simply rearranged and cut down different words so they might possibly make sense. Long story short; don’t trust the translation of that sentence!


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